Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

The room was cold and unfeeling, devoid of any life since his departure.

Soren's icy eyes raked over the room, landing on the direction of the low voice he had heard. Even in the darkness, he could make out a figure leaning against the wall in the furthest corner.

Their breathing was so quiet, Soren could've thought they were dead. Not to mention the musky scent of blood that lingered faintly in the air, trailing from the door.

The prince stepped forward slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

There he was, that bothersome hero, with his head hanging low and hand grasped over his stomach. There was an unmistakenable air of exhaustion radiating from his battered body.

Soren lowered his eyes.

"Raphael." said the prince slowly, in a half-greeting.

"You're bleeding on my carpet."

Raphael laughed deeply, though his voice was weak and raspy. On the verge of breaking. "What would you like me to do about it?"

"Stop bleeding."

"....."

A long, exasperated sigh.

"You never change. I know you didn't intend to return," Those piercing abyssal eyes lifted to stare straight at the prince. Cautious, careful. Raphael's suspicions never stopped existing."so why are you back?"

"None of your business."

Raphael grinned, clutching his stomach in silent amusement — or frustration. Perhaps a combination of both.

The state of the protagonist was incredibly poor. HIs clothes were ripped, and the scent of blood was heavy in the surrounding air. If not for the cloak which covered Raphael's body, a horrible sight could've been seen.

The prince shifted his eyes to the ground, which had been inked in violent crimson. In the darkness of the room, everything felt more quiet. More dangerous.

Soren wondered, would Raphael Han die just like this?

He watched for a few more moments calmly before turning away. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Raphael had helped him once, that day at the competition. He would return the favour.

Looking around, he rummaged through several drawers before finding bandages that had been left from whenever somebody used it before. There were simple materials for first-aid, but Soren knew them well.

He approached Raphael again.

This time, the man lifted his eyes slightly, peering right at Soren.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping you."

Raphael watched quietly as he relaxed his legs, revealing a more exposed position. When he loosened his posture, the damage could be seen.

Wrapping a slender finger around the robes, Soren pulled it off.

Raphael hissed.

A large, ghastly cut ran up his chest, slicing through the cloth as it continuously dripped with blood. Dozens of smaller nicks covered his body, sharp enough to draw blood, but not as grave as the first once Soren had seen.

"Celine did this." said Soren quietly with silent confidence.

Raphael narrowed his eyes as he felt the fingers trail across his chest, wrapping the bandage firmly. "She did."

"Why?"

"Did you want to hear a story before you slept, little prince?" joked Raphael, knowing that the prince had come back to his room likely to sleep. At his teasing tone, the bandages tightened, and he sucked in a breath.

"Sorry." said Soren blankly. "My hand slipped."

The most unfortunate part of it was that Soren's hand, truly slipped. Not that Raphael would believe it.

Raphael squinted at the prince for several seconds before continuing. "She wanted me to join the Third Religion — because my strength would prove to be a hinderance to their plans. I declined, and she attacked me."

"And you lost."

Raphael didn't feel insulted and smiled vaguely. "And I lost."

It wasn't that he'd shown mercy to the saint — he was used to betrayal, and even more used to killing those who had once been on his side. However, by nature, Raphael wasn't one who enjoyed killing.

For Celine who he'd sparred with only months earlier, he had been taken by surprise and lost. To begin with, the Death Saint was anything but weak.

But not for a moment would Raphael call him emotions a weakness. Because of that, he wasn't ashamed to admit his loss.

"Hm." muttered Soren in response, twisting the snowy bandages between his fingers with skill.

Raphael lowered his eyes and watched him.

"Aren't you quite skilled at this?"

"I've had practice."

"And when was that?"

Soren's fingers paused in the air momentarily, flashing a quick glance up at Raphael from where his neck bent, bandage still in hand.

Slowly, he said, "Before."

Raphael understood. "What sort of world was it?"

"None of your—"

"Please."

At this time, Raphael's thoughts were spinning.

Even if betrayal had become something he was used to, that didn't mean he'd be immune. Even if the world's end was a repeated sight, that didn't mean it destroyed him to watch.

Raphael was a protagonist who'd never lose hope. But that didn't mean he wouldn't despair.

Soren peered up, like a curious child wanting to learn. It was strange, humorous even for a serious person like him. But something had changed.

'You will get nothing by hiding.'

That teenager had told him. Observe. Watch. Because the secrets, the only secrets he was curious about finding out, would be out of his reach so long as he remained in his spot.

In this comfortable circle where nothing to reach him. Beyond those tall walls, within the endless darkness.

At some point in time, Soren had locked himself away.

Observe.

Watch.

Listen.

"It was..." said Soren steadily, moving his hands again as Raphael blinked in surprise at the answer. "…a boring place."

The same monsters, over and over. The same cruel people, again and again. A collapsing world that never collapsed, an apocalypse that never ended.

His own life that repeated, continuously.

Raphael got over his surprise at hearing Soren answer and wondered, "How was it boring?"

"Nothing changed."

"There are people who don't enjoy change. Are you not one of them?"

"Some constants are so annoying, you can only wish for change." came the prince's rare, serious answer.

Raphael gazed at him calmly, and Soren felt the boring weight of his stare pressing into his mind.

"Did you try to change, little prince?"

"Yes." scowled Soren.

"Then why did you stop?"

"What?"

"Trying." said Raphael deeply. "Why did you stop trying?"

"Nonsen—"

"But you did. Didn't you?"

Soren fell silent. Raphael was unique in the way he read through people, scanning them and flipping through the pages of their mind as easily as grabbing a book off a shelf.

It was what Soren admired about him, but it was also what irritated Soren the most. He didn't enjoy being read.

And Raphael knew that. Of course he did, and that was one of the reasons he asked. Raphael knew where to draw his limits in involving himself with other people, but something was different.

An unexplainable, compelling desire to help this prince. As if once, that had been his goal a long time ago.

"Quiet." said Soren after some time with a frown, pulling the bandage tightly and stepping back. He walked over to the bed and sat down lazily, grabbing a pillow in his arms.

Even he knew Raphael's words were true, probing at the parts of him he didn't want to explore. Soren felt nothing, but he wanted to. He wanted to understand.

When Soren wanted something, he would get it. And once, he had tried.

So when was it he'd stopped? Given up on understanding others, understanding himself?

Now, in this world he never wished to live in, he was trying again.

But to begin with, where did he give up?

He didn't want to know.

Raphael pulled one leg up, resting his head on his knee as he stared at Soren from the corner of the room.

Even if some part of him wanted to examine the mind of that foolish prince and figure out why exactly it was that Soren was the way he was, Raphael didn't press any further.

If Soren wasn't interested in talking, then it was fine. He'd talk instead.

"The world is collapsing," said Raphael thoughtfully, a meaningful look in his eyes containing the history of tragedy he'd been forced to bear witness to. "again."

Soren said nothing. And so Raphael continued.

"It seems pointless, I figure. Saving something that I've seen fall over and over when the chance is so slight. But I always end up doing it, I always end up trying. It's stupid."

"It is." agreed Soren, earning a light laugh from Raphael.

The man closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall as he breathed deeply. "It really is.

Soren watched him quietly from the bed, his own thoughts flowing through his mind. He couldn't help but ask, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Why?" Raphael smiled lazily. "Because when the world is ending, there's no point in hiding anything. And maybe, because I just can't bring myself to hate you, annoying as you are."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

Soren ignored his words. "Why do you want to save the world?"

Honestly, Soren didn't understand it at all. The truth was, Raphael didn't either. He wasn't the kindest person in the world, nor the strongest. He'd witnessed many horrors in life, and didn't think the world was worth saving.

But, "It's not the world I want to save.

"Then?"

"It's the people." said Raphael. "I want to protect the people, who are so unique and peculiar that I can't help but be interested."

Raphael wouldn't label himself as a hero for what he tried to do. He wouldn't call himself a fool either, despite the deception and trickery he had faced in the many lifetimes.

It was difficult to put into words, but Raphael found beauty in life.

And it was that beauty he wished to protect.

"I said before, if you wish to save the world, I will help you."

Raphael's eyes opened slightly as he peered at Soren inquisitively. "Why?"

Always asking questions. Questions Soren didn't quite have an answer for, nor had any intentions of answering.

"Yes, or no?" asked Soren impatiently.

Raphael flashed a lopsided grin. "Absolutely."

In the end, Soren had returned to the castle. Since there was nothing he could do about it, he'd cooperate. The world couldn't collapse now, not when it held the secrets he desperately sought.

So, he wouldn't let it.

"Listen to me. No matter what." said Soren lightly, his icy eyes seeming to stand out even in the darkness. "If you listen to me, I'll show you a different ending."

"Oh? You sure sound confident. And how do you plan to do that?"

"Follow my plan. If you follow it, we'll win this fight."

"Against a Death Saint who had such a crazy amount of power? We haven't even met the final boss yet, little prince. You're pretty optimistic."

Soren's gaze was unwavering. "I'll show you victory."

Raphael stared back. "Then show me."

Both had fallen into a silent truce, quietly observing the others within the rolling darkness.

The surprise meeting after three months had made them let down their guards, unknowingly. For Raphael it had been a long time, and for Soren, it had been a shorter time.

Time was an interesting thing.

If only one could remember a long, empty time, while the other couldn't remember it at all, who'd be more satisfied? The answer was, neither.

Soren quietly wished in his head, 'I should've stayed away for longer.'

Raphael too thought, 'This fool returned way too soon.'

Now, fully aware of the other's appearance, their guards were put up once again. It couldn't be helped, not when that was a habit they'd gained over many years.

Soren was the first to move, dragging his lazy body out of the bed as his pillows tumbled with him. Several fell on the floor, and Raphael blinked in disbelief.

Was he watching a human or a sloth right now?

He'd just put his life in the hands of said sloth. Raphael felt a little regretful at his earlier decisions. A lot of regret, actually.

"Well, don't leave a mess."

"Clean it if you don't like it."

Raphael sighed and said pointedly, "It's your mess."

"I like messes." said Soren simply, as if that made everything reasonable.

Just to make sure, he walked back to the bed that he'd rolled out of and brushed another pillow to the ground. They both watched as it fell lightly onto the carpet, a soft thud filling the quiet room.

Raphael stared. "Haha... just why?"

Soren blinked. "Why not?"

"....." A long, drawn out sigh. "Sure, okay. Whatever you say."

Soren ignored him and walked to the door. Since he'd agreed to help, he would follow it through. The other princes would prove crucial, and he'd yet to meet Atlas. A prince whose skill in strategy surpassed all others.

They were the first step.

"Where are you going?"

Not to mention, "I can't sleep when your blood is all over my room." stated Soren bluntly.

"I can't really help it."

"Unfortunately."

There was no sympathy in Soren's voice, and Raphael sighed, having not expected anything from him.

When Soren reached the door, his fingers resting on the handle, he was stopped once again.

"Are you certain that you want to get involved, little prince?"

There was something Raphael understood better than anyone. Forcing somebody to do something would cause nothing, and for the Soren who'd been set on leaving and never looking back, Raphael wanted to confirm.

Confirm whether Soren truly intended to help.

A careless determination could save nobody. If Soren wasn't certain, Raphael would stop him. This sort of thing... it was not a joke.

Soren turned his head. "Yes."

"Are you aware that once you get involved, it'll be too late to return to that simple lifestyle you want to live?"

There was no judgement in his tone. Raphael wouldn't call it cowardly if somebody chose to pursue a different life, even if the world was ending. That didn't matter.

But when one made a choice, they needed to know what sort of mess they were getting into.

"I know."

"If you become a hindrance," drawled Raphael in a mocking, chilling tone, "I will not hesitate to kill you."

They had formed a partnership, a truce. However, Raphael never stopped suspecting Soren, and Soren never stopped wanting to avoid Raphael.

There was a tension that had yet to disappear.

Although ever so slightly, it was starting to fade. That was the single truth neither had realized.

Soren raised his eyes, the dreamy sky orbs gleaming through the long lashes. His expression was lazy, but the corner of his lips curved. "Do you think I fear death?"

"My greatest fear isn't death, but surviving without living."

They stood at the opposite ends of the room, one leaning against the wall with an overwhelming arrogance and the other standing with a careless indifference. Silence filled the air, swirling with murder and amusement.

From who the emotions stemmed from, it was impossible to tell.

These two intruders from another world, with a caution and trauma so deeply engraved in their bones.

Finally, Raphael laughed. "Even better. I won't be committing a crime if I kill you then."

"I never said I'd let you easily kill me either."

"You think I'll have trouble?"

"I know you will." Soren smiled vaguely.

Raphael wondered, "Is a weak person so difficult?"

Soren replied, "Sometimes, a weak person is the hardest to kill."

"Raphael Han, I have no intention of dying," he stated after a moment, glancing to the side tiredly, "Even if it is by your hands."

"Then if you die," the man begun, his gaze dark and meaningful, his shadow looming.

"Only die by my hands."

Soren tilted his chin. "I won't die."

"Don't forget your words, Ren Suzuki."

Soren paused, eyes flickering from where he stood by the door. Raphael's gaze didn't move.

He cast one last glance at the protagonist and walked out, the door softly shutting as the air cleared. Raphael sighed, gazing at the door with a thoughtful expression.

Being involved with this person really was troublesome.

Unfortunately, it was too late to turn back.